


It all begins like this

by spiralribbons



Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralribbons/pseuds/spiralribbons
Summary: Tharn thinks it's way too easy to provoke Type. Watching the way Type's breath quickens, the way his large deep brown eyes dart around whenever Tharn moves too close -His roommate is an asshole, so Tharn decides to be an asshole right back at him.
Relationships: Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	It all begins like this

**Author's Note:**

> Regular TharnType warnings apply. I love how both boys are such manipulative assholes, this calls for fic.

There has to be something wrong with him, Tharn reflects, as he turns up his music to tune out the noise of his hot-headed roommate raging around the room, to actually think that Type is _cute_. Type is loud as usual; Tharn can still hear him swearing even through the beat of the music pounding through his earphones.

"- the hell are you smiling at?" Type snaps at him, like Tharn's presence isn't definitely the source of his irritation. 

Tharn pastes on a look of disinterest as he looks up from his book. It's not like he's managing to process any of it anymore, something about the influence of baroque era music on modern day musical harmony; his attention had neatly flung itself out the window the moment Type returned to their shared room after his usual evening football session. 

He doesn't want to admit it, but Type does get to him in ways he'd never expected to happen. Type, who is now angry and starting to pace up and down the narrow space between their beds.

Tharn stretches, slow and languid, then stands up from his desk. It's way too easy to provoke Type; he would be lying if he ever says he doesn't enjoy doing it. Watching the way Type's breath quickens, the way his large deep brown eyes dart around whenever Tharn moves too close into his personal space...

Which is exactly why Tharn loves doing it. He can't explain it. It's like how a badly behaved child will prod and prod at a sleeping animal just to see how many times more he can poke until he gets bitten. Childish, Tharn knows, but it's nothing compared to what Type has inflicted on _him_. 

And he does it now, stalking across the room towards Type but he doesn't even need to do much; Type instantly shrinks away from him as he approaches, until his back hits the wall and he has nowhere to go. Type is all bark and no bite, really. And it's just _so_ satisfying when Tharn has him trapped up against the wall. 

"You look cute like this," Tharn says, grinning as he leans down to just barely brush his lips against the side of Type's face. He inhales deeply to watch Type squirm even more - the salty smell of Type's sweat that hits his nostrils is an added bonus - "All hot and bothered for me? I'm flattered, Type."

"You're disgusting," Type spits, "I hate even being in the same room as you."

"Ah," Tharn says, lowering his voice to whisper right into Type's ear, "But I like it. I like it a lot."

"Get the fuck away from me," Type says, seeming to finally gather up the courage to shove Tharn away. Tharn lets him go, but for one wild moment he considers the implications of tripping Type up as he squeezes past, toss him onto one of their beds to properly freak him out this time. All he has to do is hook one foot around Type's, grab at his arm and twist a little to topple him over, and he'll have Type pressed down into bed in less than a second-

"You're irritating, you know," Tharn says, rolling his eyes. He resists the urge to add on that Type is being completely childish, because god knows he's starting to sink to the same level of immaturity himself. 

"And you're disgusting," Type repeats, flipping him a rude gesture. He doesn't turn back as he grabs a towel off the top of his cabinet and disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tharn absently wonders how long more they can go until their neighbours officially file a noise complaint against them. Not like the dorm office will care anyway, they probably get a hundred or so similar complaints a year. 

He sighs, returning to his desk and picking up his book again. The words swim before him on the page as he reads and rereads the same line with no idea what he's actually reading. 

"Damnit," Tharn mutters to himself. He's acutely aware of how much he wants to break something, preferably Type's arrogant smirk, preferably with a conveniently aimed fist to his pretty pouting face, but that's more Type's way of dealing with things and Tharn _definitely_ has better self-control than that.

He needs a drink.

* * *

Tharn is fucked up. 

He can't help it. He likes attractive people - but who doesn't? He likes them cute but bold, the ones that have that streak of wildness hidden behind a facade of cheerful innocence. Type is exactly all of those down to a tee, and Tharn had fallen for him the second day of them rooming together. He doesn't remember what it was they were discussing, the lights already off and the clock ticking way past midnight, but they were wide awake exchanging stories about their families, their old high schools, too excited to fall asleep so soon. He remembers Type saying something crude then instantly bursting into peals of delighted laughter at his own joke - and that was it. Tharn was immediately so wholly, completely, irrevocably head over heels for him. 

It's a feeling he's experienced many times before, but he recognises that this time with Type is the most intense he's ever felt it.

It's unfortunate then, that Type hates him so fiercely.

They're similar in more ways than Type will ever realise, Tharn thinks, in that they both have tempers and they're both reckless with little regard for consequences. But Tharn doesn't express it the way Type does. Tharn doesn't hit people or destroy things. But he knows he can be incredibly selfish when it to his own needs and wants; when he wants, he truly _wants_. 

And Type is attractive, and Tharn wants him. Type is so unlike anyone else Tharn has ever known. He's tanned and muscular from a childhood largely spent outdoors - Type described a little of his parents' resort to him back when they were still amicable roommates - and he's rough yet good in his own way, and on the rare occasions when he breaks out into a genuine smile, it's like he has the ability to light up the whole room. 

But for all Tharn provokes him, pretending to lean in to kiss him whenever Type isn't actively trying to hit him, (or when Type _does_ try to hit him, catching him by the wrists so Tharn can remind him that he's strong enough to physically overpower Type if he chooses to), Tharn swears to himself he'll never let his anger get the better of him. It's all just to see how far he can push Type before... before what? He's not even sure what he's hoping to achieve by doing it, but god it's so satisfying how it has the instantaneous effect of wiping the haughty smear off Type's face. 

It happens again that Saturday. It's been a long week and he's tired, and there's only so many times he can put up with coming home late every night after band practice to a bed full of crumbs and empty candy wrappers, his study notes going missing, his best drumsticks thrown into the trash along with a half-eaten packet of rice and stewed pork. 

Tharn takes a deep breath. Then he goes over to Type's desk and slams his laptop shut, ignoring Type's loud "What the fuck, Tharn," and grabs Type by the collar of his shirt.

"You're testing my patience here," Tharn growls, bodily hauling Type up to slam him into the doors of his own closet so hard that the wood rattles on its hinges. He's probably hurting Type, but it's nothing that Type can't handle, and he's far too angry to care anyway. "Grow the fuck up, why do you keep insisting on being so childish? It's not like I ever did anything to you!"

"You _exist_ ," Type scoffs, his hands wrapping around Tharn's forearms, sharp fingernails digging in. "Why can't you just move out, I can't stand the sight of you." 

"I never did anything to you!" Tharn nearly yells back again, composes himself, then adds darkly, "But if you want it, I could," and he closes in, brings up one knee to wedge between Type's thighs, making him stumble a little. 

"You dare," Type says, in disbelief, freezing for just a moment before he jerks forwards and bites Tharn in the wrist. 

"Oh yeah?" Tharn says. He slides his thigh between Type's legs, and presses himself up close against Type's body. Tharn grinds against him through his shorts, and notes with satisfaction how Type's mouth falls open into a comical _O_ of shock.

For all his arrogance and rudeness, Type is still a hot-blooded young man. It's almost effortless; Tharn allows himself a small smirk, making sure to look Type squarely in the eyes as he rubs harder and surer, until he feels Type go limp in his grip.

"Tharn," Type says, but the venom is already bleeding out of his voice. 

"You like it? See, Type, I know about men, and I know what men like," Tharn says, taunting, relishing the look of horror on Type's face when Type realises he's gone hard. So _easy._ He releases Type; Type stumbles and just only manages to straighten up before he hits the floor. 

"Fuck off," Type says weakly. 

"I'm going to take a shower," Tharn says. "Clean up my bed before I'm done." 

Half an hour later when he steps out of the bathroom, one hand raking through his wet hair, he's surprised to see fresh bedsheets on his bed and Type huddled up in his own corner with a comic book. 

"Thank you," Tharn says, bemused. He wasn't expecting that at all.

Type doesn't reply.

* * *

He's provoking Type just to get a rise out of him, Tharn tells himself. Not because he actually wants Type. Because it's the most effective way to get Type to shut up and back off. (Yelling never works; Type will just yell back at him and they'll go back and forth until their next door neighbours are banging on the wall between their rooms hollering at them to shut up). 

He's not doing this because he wants Type, Tharn reminds himself again. Type, who is the most obnoxious asshole he's ever had the misfortune to meet. He's cute, but not worth the trouble at all. But later that night when he jerks off, it's to thoughts of Type, of Type writhing beneath him, of Type moaning and arching as Tharn fucks into him -

Tharns comes so hard that his vision goes white. 

* * *

  
They fall into some sort of a civil truce a few weeks before the end of the semester, last minute cramming for exams taking up so much of their free time that even Tharn puts band practice on hold to focus on studying. He loves music but studying the actual _history_ of music can be deathly boring, and he's resigned himself to purely memorising all the names and dates instead of actually understanding any of it. 

Type, meanwhile, alternates between crashing over at his friend's place to study and brooding at his desk over what looks like an immensely complicated anatomy textbook, all the while muttering to himself as he jabs the end of his highlighter at random spots over the page. Tharn finds he doesn't mind it all all; it's actually quite endearing.

And then - it's definitely the stress catching up to them both, Tharn thinks, when one day Type just whirls around in his chair, glares at Tharn and yells, "Stop fucking staring at me!"

"I wasn't," Tharn yells back. Admittedly, he was spending a lot of time staring blankly at the wall, out the window, across the room, at the lone ant steadily making its way across his table - basically everywhere else other than his textbook - as he attempted to get through a particularly tedious chaper on modal music. 

"You were just looking at me!" Type shouts, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. "Don't look at me!" 

Tharn can't even laugh at how stupid that sounds. 

"I wasn't," Tharn starts, then gives up. There's clearly no winning the argument this time when Type is picking fights over nothing. "Suit yourself. I'm leaving."

"Don't come back," Type says rudely. 

"Don't get your hopes up," Tharn says. 

Tharn throws a few books and a handful of post-it notes into his bag, and goes back home for the rest of the weekend. His mother fusses over him and immediately promises to cook his favourite dishes for dinner, disappearing into the kitchen. His little sister mobs him next, and Tharn indulges Thanya as she drags him up to her room to show him her latest project from school that she's been working on.

"This is a surprise, I wasn't expecting you back till end of the month," he hears his older brother say from the doorway. 

"Hey," Tharn says, trying not to sound too weary. Thorn is remarkably adept at picking out whenever he's not feeling himself, and Tharn doesn't feel up to explaining anything just yet. "Just thought it would be nice to have a change of environment for a bit."

"I'll take over watching her," Thorn says, nodding at Thanya, then crouching down with his arms open as Thanya runs to greet him with a hug. "I'll let you know when Mum has dinner ready. Come, Thanya, let's not bother Tharn, he has to study too."

"Thanks," Tharn mumbles, ruffling Thanya's hair as he passes. Maybe he'll just take a really nice, long nap first. 

At the very least, Tharn gets through the whole chapter on modal music and more than halfway through the next on the evolution of tonal music which is significantly more bearable. He's in a better mood than he's been all week as he climbs up the stairs back to his dorm room, humming to himself. The melody for the song he's been writing is just starting to shape itself, and Tharn can't wait for the exams to be over so he can write it all down.

The first thing he sees when he unlocks the door to his room is Type, stretched out on the bed, shirtless, his phone in one hand, the other curled around his cock. 

Tharn's mind instantly goes blank.

"What the fuck, Tharn," Type snaps, scrambling up and snatching at his blankets to pull up over himself. "Why the fuck are you here?"

Tharn's brain takes a while to formulate a response. He takes in the glazed over expression in Type's eyes, the deepening blush that's starting to spread over Type's face down to his bare chest. 

"I live here," Tharn says lazily, and grins. "What's the matter, am I interrupting something? Do go on."

"Fuck you," Type says.

Tharn suddenly thinks he'll prefer to have Type's filthy mouth choking on his cock instead - Type curses way, way too much - and finds himself with a faceful of pillow. 

"Stay away from me," Type warns, halfway to the bathroom. Tharn gets there first and holds the door open before Type can slam it shut on him.

"Need any help?" Tharn says, and oh, he's thoroughly enjoying this now. "I'm not all talk, you know." 

Type curses again, but Tharn shoves back at him until he has Type backed up against the nearest empty wall. Type is stares at him, eyes wide and slack-jawed, and Tharn kneels on the cold tiled floor before him. 

"Let me take care of you," Tharn says gently, and pulls down Type's boxers in one smooth motion. Type is still hard, and Tharn wraps one hand around his cock and expertly teases out a drop of precome budding at the slit. He puts his other hand across Type's hips to hold him still. 

Type doesn't say anything, doesn't move, just continues staring at him with those huge, dark eyes. There's a little voice in the back of Tharn's head that's urgently telling him how bad of an idea this is, but Type is right _here_ in front of him, _right now_ , and he might never get a chance like this again.

"Close your eyes. You can pull on my hair if you want," Tharn suggests, and very slowly licks a broad stripe up the underside of Type's cock. 

Types tastes so good, better than he could have imagined. He makes the sweetest, prettiest noises too, tiny little gasps of pleasure and strangled whimpers when Tharn takes him in all the way to the hilt. Tharn swallows hard, makes sure Type feels it as Tharn's throat flutters around the head of his cock.

There's a small thud; Type's thrown back his head, hitting himself on the wall. Tharn pulls himself off to look up at him. Type's lashes are wet and shining, but his eyes fly open the moment Tharn stops. 

"P - Please," Type whines, visibly shuddering. 

Tharn grins. "I did tell you," he says, going back to mouth at the pale sensitive skin of Type's inner thigh. He wishes he could bite the milky skin there, leave a few marks of his own, but for now he'll focus on Type's pleasure. He distracts himself by settling for a kiss on the dip of Type's hipbone instead. 

"Shit, don't stop, get your mouth - _hurry up_ ," Type says brokenly, and tugs impatiently at Tharn's hair. 

Tharn doesn't need to be told twice. He drags his tongue over the head of Type's cock, slow and deliberate, teasing until he feels Type's fingers twisting in his hair and yanking again. 

He isn't even surprised that Type is the sort that doesn't take very well to doing things slow. Type sounds like he's close to swearing at him again, his tight grip in Tharn's hair turning painful. He tilts his head back to steal a glance up at Type's face and sees that Type has his eyes screwed shut - maybe next time he'll properly tease him, make him keep his eyes open to watch. 

"You're too slow, you bastard," Type hisses, suddenly twisting away, releasing his hold on Tharn and wrapping one hand around his cock, and Tharn can only stare in awe as Type starts to jerk himself off, desperation evident in his hurried strokes.

Tharn blinks, then roughly swats Type's hands away, gripping his wrists and pinning them to the wall behind them, holding him still. 

"I said I would take care of you, wouldn't I?" Tharn says, his voice low but still gentle, and he slides back down over Type's cock. Type feels hot and heavy in his mouth, and Tharn tightens his lips around him and sucks as hard as he can, working his tongue against the head in that way that he's learnt that guys really like. 

It doesn't take much; Tharn sees the telltale sign of Type's whole body tensing up and then he's coming with a small shout, spurting out thick and warm right down Tharn's throat. Tharn effortlessly swallows, then sits back to look up at Type. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Type says. He looks dazed for all of five seconds, then snaps back to reality so abruptly that Tharn almost feels sorry for him. 

"Type?"

"Get away from me," Type says, and flees. A loud creak tells Tharn that Type's flung himself into bed. Tharn follows after him. 

There had been absolutely no reason to provoke Type this far this time. Tharn wonders what's happening to him and finds he doesn't care. He goes to bend over Type, who immediately rolls over and pulls his blankets over his head, which Tharn is starting to think is extremely adorable.

"That was fun," Tharn murmurs into his ear, feeling gratified when Type goes rigid at the sound of his voice. "Let's do it again soon, Type."  


**Author's Note:**

> I noticed a lot of other fics seem to focus on Type's perspective, so how about one from Tharn's instead? :D


End file.
